Broken
by klaine06
Summary: Blaine is beaten and gang raped for being gay. How does he learn to deal with his struggles? Will his relationship with Kurt ever be the same?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys! So this is my first fanfic, and I'd love some reviews. Sure, it didn't turn out as good as I'd wanted, but I really hope you like it. Thanks for taking the time to read it! :)**

It was a surprisingly hot day in Westerville, Ohio; usually, the temperature never exceeded 82 or 83—even in August—but it must've been pushing 95. That said, Blaine Anderson's walk home from Dalton Academy was not a very pleasant one.

Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and upper lip, and he wanted nothing more than to get home and take a cold shower. Blaine hadn't been having a very nice day to begin with, anyway—on his walk to school in the morning, a gang of young men loitering in the alley between the bakery and the shoe store had spat at him and called him names (and it didn't help that his Kurt, his precious Kurt, wasn't there to help him, after his transfer back to McKinley). He ignored them as best he could, but he couldn't shake their taunting voices which hung in his head. _Fag_, they had said. _Go straight to Hell_, they had said.

Blaine felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket. He paused from walking for a moment, pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. One new message from Kurt Hummel.

_ Hey, honey, are you up for dinner tonight? My mom made casserole… but I can order a pizza and we'll eat it in my room and maybe watch a movie? XD_

Well, Hell yeah, he was up for dinner.

_Sounds good. See you later. :)_

Blaine continued walking and couldn't repress a smile. Dinner with Kurt. Hm, that sure ought to lift his spirits.

"Fag."

Blaine's grin faded. He paused for a moment, but then continued walking, slightly dazed by the random insult he presumed was directed at him. He figured it was another one of those pesky gang members he had tried so hard to ignore that morning. Whatever, he didn't really care, he was going to visit Kurt that night and they'd talk and—

_"Get your hands off of me!"_ Blaine shouted. Someone had grabbed the collar of his uniform and jerked him backwards with such force that he almost fell. In the instant he was unbalanced, the aggressor pulled him to the alley by the bakery—which, Blaine duly noted, was the alley where the gang liked to hang around. The very gang that had called him names that morning. Quite obviously, his attacker was a member.

The hand which had seized Blaine by his shirt collar threw him to the ground aggressively. Blaine looked up at the gang members, which were now crowded around him so he couldn't escape. There were four of them altogether, each one with a fiery glare in their eyes and a stance that made Blaine want to cry out in fear. _No, Blaine, you must be strong, _he told himself. _You need to get away from these men, and the only way you're going to do that is if you pretend that you're not scared in the slightest._

Blaine stood and stared fiercely into his aggressor's eyes. "And what do _you _want, may I ask?"

The man, very tall and quite literally _covered _in tattoos (there was probably more inked skin than not), chuckled. His voice was deep and gruff, which only made his already frightening nature even more terrifying. "You fucking bastard, you know. We gonna give you what you deserve, you little cunt." The man grabbed Blaine's wrist and jerked him close. Using his other hand, he punched Blaine in the stomach.

Blaine couldn't breathe for several moments; he doubled over in pain, hands clutching his gut. In his moment of agony, a second gang member kicked him in his right side. Blaine had never been kicked so hard—the man had at _least_ fractured a rib. A terrible, searing pain shot through him, and a strangled cry escaped his lips.

The gang members delivered blow after blow, each one more painful than the next. After they had turned Blaine into a huddled, bloody mess, the ringmaster kneeled down by his side. "You're gonna regret the day you were born, you little faggot."

Blaine could barely tell what was happening; the world around him was spinning and blurry. Surely it was from his loss of blood—one of the gang members had taken a pocket knife to his arms and cheeks, staining most of his face a dark maroon.

He heard the _zip _of his trousers being undone. The man grabbed at his crotch through his zipper hole and pulled at it brutally. Blaine cried out in misery. Someone else (he didn't bother to look at the monster's face, he just buried his head in his hands through the whole thing) had taken his pants and gotten behind him and— _Shit, what's he doi—"_OH GOD, PLEASE, NO!" Blaine screamed. The man had shoved his dick _inside _of Blaine, making him cry out in pain and fear.

A sweaty hand covered Blaine's mouth. "Dont you _dare _make another sound, you little faggot," the man growled in his ear.

Someone else closed in on him and delivered a powerful kick to his groin. The men continued to beat Blaine to a pulp until he was no more than a bloody mass, unconscious and alone in the alley.

**Please review-as you can see, I sort of need the help. Thanks again for reading it. Hope you liked! (More chapters will be coming, as will Kurt-this IS a Klaine fanfic.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you **_**so much **_**to all of you guys who reviewed my story. It means a lot to me! Sorry I didn't have any author's notes in the last chapter—I'm sort of new to this.**

**So glad you guys liked it and can sympathize with Blaine. That was one of my primary goals—I didn't want to make my story so outlandish that you couldn't relate.**

**I'll also try to add chapters **_**very often**_**. I have not much else to do, and I love writing, sooo…. **

**Without further ado, chapter 2. **

Blaine awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. He tore the sheets from his body, panting as if he had just run a mile. He tried to sit up to take in his unfamiliar surroundings, but a searing pain shot from his upper ribcage.

Blaine began to panic. Where was he? He was alone in a dark room and… broken. His ribs felt fractured, his groin sore, his arms and face peppered with deep cuts and bruises. _Calm now, Blaine, _he thought to himself. _Calm yourself and try to remember where you were last._

Of course.

The alleyway.

It all came back to him in a flash; the kicks, the punches, the cuts, the _grabs_…. He had been beaten up, practically gang-raped. And for what?

Oh, that's right. For being a 'fag'.

_No, no, this can't be happening. You _couldn't _have been gang-raped, that's just ridiculous. Westerville is such a nice town, the people here would _never….

"Help," Blaine muttered, obviously too soft for anyone to hear. But his voice felt so raspy and weak, unlike his usual clear, confident speech. He looked around. He couldn't see much—it must've been very late at night, it was so dark—but he could make out some sort of buzzer resting on a bedside table to his left. He reached out to grab it and pushed the button.

Within moments, a doctor rushed in, his white coat billowing behind him. "How may I be of assistance?"

Blaine opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; he wasn't really sure. By that point he had figured he was in a hospital of some sort, but he was still awfully confused…. But it wasn't like the doctor could supply him of any answers.

"Sir?"

Blaine felt his lower lip quiver. He tried to repress the tears; crying was so unlike his usual self, his usual strong, upbeat self.

He couldn't restrain it. Right there in front of the doctor, Blaine gave way to a river of tears.

"Sir, if you're having pains, we could medicate you, but we should really contact your parents first—that is, under the assumption that you're underage?"

But Blaine didn't _want _to see his parents. Who he _wanted _to see was Kurt.

"G—give me a phone," he choked in between his sobs. "I'll call them."

The doctor gestured to the patient phone on the bedside table. "Go right ahead."

Blaine dialed Kurt's number with a quivering finger and held the receiver to his ear.

It rang for several seconds before Kurt picked up. "_Hello?_"

"Kurt?"

"Blaine? What on earth? Do you know how _late _it is? What do you want? Why aren't you calling from your cell? Why didn't you show up for dinner?"

"P—please, Kurt, I need you."

"Blaine, you sound dreadful. Where are you? What's wrong?"

"I... don't exactly know. I think I'm at the Mount Carmel East hospital, I'm not sure—"

"Oh, good Lord, Blaine, are you okay?" he sounded concerned, almost scared.

"Just come, quickly. Please_._" Tears were threatening to overcome him again.

"Alright, I'll be right there. Hold tight."

By the time Kurt finally arrived, the doctor had left and the digital clock on Blaine's bedside table showed the time 3:16 a.m. Nevertheless, he'd never been so happy in his life to see Kurt's face.

Blaine was drowsy and near asleep when Kurt flipped on the lights. He stood still for a moment, staring, bewildered, at Blaine's injuries, his mouth slightly ajar.

Blaine tried to sit up in his bed, but his injured ribs kept him from doing so. "Kurt, I'm so glad you—"

"Oh, dear God, Blaine, what _happened_?" Kurt cried, rushing to Blaine's bedside.

Blaine didn't respond, but rather just gazed glassy-eyed at the boy standing next to him. Had he upset Kurt? Was Kurt angry at him?

Kurt dragged over a chair from the corner of the room. "Blaine, tell me what happened_. _Please." Kurt's face was stern and his voice dead serious.

Blaine never lied to Kurt. He told him anything and everything, as Kurt did to him; they had a very honest and open relationship. But he was so scared of what Kurt's reaction might be if he was too frank with his response, so he began to speak very deliberately and gingerly. "Kurt, I was walking home from school, right? When I was texting you. And there were these guys…. In the alley by the bakery. Some gang, I guess. They, uh, grabbed me, right? And they… beat me up."

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and used his free arm to reach up and trace his finger along Blaine's cuts. "Did they do that to you?"

Blaine hesitated slightly before nodding. "Kurt, I don't want to scare you, alright? I—"

Kurt suddenly burst out crying.

Blaine frowned at the sight of the tears straming down the boy's flawless, pale cheeks. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"But how could this have happened_? _Oh, this can't be happening, it just _can't!" _Kurt wailed, a shaky hand coming up to wipe his face.

_See what you did, Blaine? You made him cry. This is all your fault... _Blaine thought, disgusted with himself. And with that thought, Blaine started crying himself. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm _so sorry_..." he sobbed.

"Shh, you don't have to tell me any more right now, you hear? It's _okay, _Blaine. I'm here. I gotcha. It's alright. Shh," Kurt managed to say through his tears. He reached for Blaine's hand.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry_,_" Blaine repeated over and over.

"No. Don't be sorry, Blaine, you have _nothing _to be sorry for. _Nothing_." Kurt said, consoling himself for Blaine's sake.

Blaine sniffled. "But I thought I could be brave and face them... I should've run, I should've called for help..."

Kurt stroked the back of Blaine's hand with his thumb. "You didn't do anything wrong, honey, I don't blame you for _anything_."

The two boy sat in silence (except for the occasional sniffle coming from Blaine) until Kurt spoke again. "Where are your parents, Blaine? Don't you need them to pay for your medical bills?"

Blaine half-expected a fresh flow of tears would erupt from him again; it didn't, though. Apparently, his feelings towards his parents were no more than apathy by now. There was still hurt inside of him, but mostly… numbness. "No, it's okay. My parents aren't here… my mother's on a business trip and my father… well, he's not here."

"But—are you at _least _getting more than minimal care? Shouldn't they stitch up some of those cuts, or _something?_"

Blaine shook his head. "Until my parents come, they can't really do much of anything."

Kurt considered Blaine's response. "I ought to call my parents, then, at least maybe they could help with the bill..."

"Kurt, I can't ask you to do that, I'd never fo—"

"You get your rest now, but in the morning, _I'm calling them,_" he said forcefully. He then ran a hand through Blaine's now-ungelled hair and leaned in closer to Blaine so he could plant a kiss on his forehead. "But until you're better, I'm staying with you. Right here in this chair."

"I love you _so much_, Kurt. You don't even know."

"I love you too. Or my name isn't Kurt-Proud-Boyfriend-of-Blaine-Anderson-Hummel."

**Thanks for reading! This chapter was sort of fluffy…. But, hey, who doesn't love a good Klaine moment? **

**I took lessthan3glee's advice to add more emotion to the chapter. It was excellent, thanks. **

**I just had to mention the fact that Blaine's hair was ungelled. Good ole Darren Criss hair, the way it should be…. :3**

_**Please **_**review. I love it when you guys do! It makes me feel special. ^_^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry, this chapter is sort of short, but there'll be another one very soon. **

** The ending notes are very important—please read them. **

** Maybe I don't have much to say up here because I'm not very confident of this chapter… nevertheless, it's sort of important to the story.**

Blaine didn't get much sleep that night—the aching pain in his ribs kept him awake, mostly, but also the fact that Kurt seemed rather displeased when he found out what happened.

Blaine remembered how he had cried the previous night. _That _in itself was humiliating enough (Blaine tried never to cry, especially in front of Kurt—he knew he thought of him as dapper, strong and confident, and he wanted to live up to that standard), and Blaine hadn't even _told _him about the worst part. A chill ran down his spine as he recalled the grabs and tugs to his groin; the very thought made him feel ridiculously embarrassed. He didn't _want _to have to tell Kurt that part, though—relationships, especially that of high schoolers, are very delicate things, and he feared nothing more than losing his. But Kurt was expecting him to recount the rest of his story that morning, and Blaine only had until the boy woke up.

The clock displayed the time 8:03 a.m. Blaine looked up at Kurt, who was slouched in his chair, head tilted to the side, eyes closed. He was so graceful when he slept. So… beautiful.

Blaine glanced at the patient phone on the table. His mother was at work, that much Blaine was sure of… and, if he were to be honest with himself, he knew that if he was _dying _she'd still say, "Oh, but honey, I'm slammed with work at the office! I'm sorry, can't your father come?"

And then there was his father. His father, who made it so difficult for Blaine to love him. His father, who Blaine _thought _just _might've _been okay with his coming out. His father, who's hated Blaine ever since he _did _come out, who tried to kick him out of the house, who still didn't know about Kurt because God knew what would happen if he found out Blaine had a boyfriend. Who would probably tell Blaine that he 'got what he deserved' if he found out that his son had been practically gang-raped for being gay.

So now what? Blaine knew that he needed _someone _to pay for his medical bills, _someone _to show up as his guardian so he could at _least _get more than minimal care. But he could _never _take that kind of money from Kurt; he'd never forgive himself. He'd try to pay Kurt back but Kurt would never accept the money, and Blaine would have to live with that for the rest of his life. Psht, as if he didn't feel guilty _enough _for what had happened.

Blaine snapped back into reality when he heard a soft murmur come from Kurt, who was stirring. About to wake up. About to pester Blaine with more questions.

_Blaine, be brave. Don't you remember when you first met Kurt? When he was being bullied by those awful boys from McKinley? Don't you remember what you told him? Texted to him every time he was having trouble? That one word, Blaine. You know it. _

"B… Blaine…." Kurt muttered, his eyelids fluttering open. He yawned and stretched his arms upwards. "How'd you sleep?"

"Well, thanks," he lied. _God_, how his body ached. The doctor had given him a small dosage of ibuprofen the previous night, but even then, the pain only subdued a little bit. And, despite the fact that there wasn't much the doctors could do about a broken rib, anyway, he still had damaged his femoral head at the top of his left leg and his cuts could very well be infected. But _apparently, _aiding those specific injuries weren't part of minimum care. Blaine groaned.

Kurt reached out and brushed a stray curl from Blaine's forehead. "Um, Blaine? I was doing some thinking last night. And, um, maybe I _should _call my parents? Because at least then they could contact an investigator, maybe we could find the people who did this to you…. And then they could, you know, while they're at it, maybe—"

"I'm _not _taking your money, Kurt. I'm fine, _really_."

_Wow, _Blaine thought to himself. _Two lies in five minutes. You're on a role, really._

"Oh, I know, I know but"—Kurt scooted his chair as close as he could to Blaine's bed and took his hand—"it's mostly for _me_, if that makes you feel better. I _want _this for you… I want you to be as well as possible. And minimal care is only so that they can keep you alive, and that's not really good enough for me—"

"Goddammit, Kurt, I'm _not _taking your money!" Blaine shouted angrily, throwing Kurt's hand away.

Kurt shrunk back, a hurt expression scrawled across his face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice shaky.

_Damn, Blaine, you really _are _a monster. You might've just broken your relationship with Kurt without even thinking about it. _"No, Kurt, I—I shouldn't have, I—"

"No, it's okay. I understand. I'll be right back."

And with that, Kurt rushed out into the hallway, tears running down his face.

**Hope you guys liked it. I hope you didn't think Kurt's reaction was too over-the-top, but he wasn't just upset about **_**that—**_**he wasn't joking when he said he wanted the best for Blaine, and he didn't want Blaine to refuse optimal care just because he didn't want to take Kurt's money. I think that maybe in the following chapter, I'll switch the P.O.V. a bit—as of now, it's just been 3****rd**** person limited to Blaine, and I think it'd be nice for one chapter to know what Kurt's thinking, too. Or would that just be sort of… messy? Review and tell me what you think. Suggestions for following chapters are nice, too. I love hearing what everyone has to say about my story. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I ended up deciding to make this chapter 3****rd**** person limited to Kurt. I don't know how many chapters will be like this—just tell me if you thought it was good… or not. **

Kurt rushed into the hallway, hiding his face as best as he could from Blaine. He leaned against the outside of the closed door and let himself slide to the ground, listening to Blaine curse himself out as tears spilled from his eyes. He felt like he was overreacting to Blaine's little outburst, but at the same time, he was _so overwhelmed _with emotion that crying seemed like an understatement to all that he was feeling.

It wasn't _just _the fact that Blaine had thrown his hand away in rage (which, Kurt admitted, was rather startling; Blaine was one to keep his cool)—it was the fact that Blaine refused to allow Kurt to provide him with financial support. And anyway, where were Blaine's parents at a time like this? Why hadn't Blaine just called _them_?

It didn't really matter. Kurt had made a decision, whether Blaine agreed with him or not. He knuckled the tears from his cheeks and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed his father's cell phone number.

"Kurt? Where the hell are you? We've been worried—"

_Oh, right. You ran away from home in the middle of last night to come to the hospital. No one else even knew where you were. _"Dad, I'm fine. Really. I'm at Carmel East Hospital, I need your help."

"_What? _What happened? Are you okay?"

"No, Dad, it's not me, it's Blaine…." Kurt thought of his boyfriend's bruises and scars. He bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"Is he, you know, conscious?"

"Yes, but—" Kurt paused. He wasn't sure exactly what to ask of his father. Did he want him to come for moral support, or did he want him to call an investigator? Oh, and what about those damned bills? He was quite sure Blaine's parents could handle some medical fees. They were the _Andersons_, for God's sake. They sure as hell weren't _poor_. And, hold on, what exactly had happened to Blaine? Kurt didn't recall him ever finishing his story—he didn't even give any details, as a matter of fact, just choked out a couple of sentences involving him being mugged. "You know what, Dad? I'll call you back."

Kurt rushed back inside the hospital room and stood by Blaine's bedside.

Blaine looked up at Kurt, his eyes filled with remorse and sincerity. His face was red; it was quite obvious that he had been crying again. "Kurt, I'm _so _sorry, so, so, _so _sorry, I'm such an idiot, I—"

Kurt pressed a finger to Blaine's lips and sat next to him on the bed. "I don't care anymore, Blaine. Really. So you lost your cool with me—to hell with that. Now, honey,"—Kurt used his other hand and ran his fingers through Blaine's hair—"do you think you could finish your story for me? The one that you were telling last night? I know you don't want to, but I think it would be in your best interest if you _did_, so we can call the investigators and catch these people. Okay?"

Blaine considered what Kurt had to say for a moment, but then shook his head forcefully. "Kurt, I _can't…."_

Kurt leaned over him and kissed him fully on the lips. "Yes, you _can_. I know it. You're Blaine Anderson, King of Courage, remember? And I still have the text messages on my phone to prove it." Kurt saw a smile—a very small one, but nevertheless a _smile_—cross Blaine's face, but fade away very quickly. Fear filled Blaine's eyes as, Kurt presumed, he recalled the details of what happened to him the previous day. "Come on, honey, it's okay, you're safe now, just _tell me_ and we don't have to talk about it ever again…." Kurt said softly as he stroked Blaine's forehead with his thumb.

A tear escaped Blaine's eye. "Kurt, I just _don't know what to do anymore_…." he whimpered.

Kurt wanted to pull him into a hug so _badly_, _damn _his broken ribs, he didn't fucking _care_—

"They raped me, Kurt."

The words came as a shock to Kurt—not only could he _not fucking believe _that someone would do that to his Blaine, his _sweet _Blaine, but how _forward _Blaine was about it was positively surprising.

And then Blaine collapsed in sobs, burying his face in Kurt's shirt. Kurt held Blaine's head there, whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he himself began to cry. The room began to spin. Kurt tried to stifle the tears but they kept flowing; he wanted to be strong, to be Blaine's rock as Blaine had been for him when he had to put up with Karofsky (who actually didn't seem like that big of a deal anymore). He wanted to tell Blaine that it was okay, that they would find a way to get past it together. But all he could do was cry, holding his boyfriend's head against his chest. His phone rang. Probably his father, calling to ask if he should come to the hospital; Kurt didn't pick up, he didn't care, he didn't care about _anything _anymore, he felt so numb….

Blaine was speaking again, his voice muffled by Kurt's shirt. "At first, they were just _grabbing," _Blaine sobbed, "but then they started _kicking_, and then there was _one—"_ Blaine tried to continue, but he was involuntarily taking little panicky breaths.

"_Breathe_, baby, it's okay, shh, _breathe—_"

Blaine gasped for air. "And _then _there was _one_, and Oh _God_, Kurt, he took me, and he"—Blaine took another sharp intake of breath—"he put himself _in _me, he _did, _Kurt, I—" Blaine's voice gave way to a fresh river of tears.

Kurt's hands were shaking; he couldn't _take _this, it was all too much. What kind of monster would do that to a harmless thing like Blaine? Kurt noticed now that his whole body was trembling, and so was Blaine's. He reclined in the bed and allowed Blaine to rest his head on his chest and weep. Kurt rubbed Blaine's back. What kind of sadistic world was he living in? The worst pain Kurt ever had to endure were the taunts and shoves of Karofsky—now, his boyfriend had just been raped, and he felt foolish for thinking that _he _had it bad.

"Kurt," Blaine murmured, "Kurt, please love me again."

Now as if _that_ didn't just tear his heart to pieces.

"Blaine, I will love you no matter_ what _happens. This isn't your fault, I want you to know that. Well get through this, I promise."

Kurt continued to stroke Blaine's hair until he fell asleep in his arms.

Kurt put Blaine's head back on his pillow and sat up. He felt lightheaded from crying so much. He wanted to fall asleep next to Blaine, to wrap his arms around him, loving him, protecting him….

But Kurt knew that he wouldn't rest until he found the people who had hurt Blaine.

XXX

Kurt had to check in with the hospital's security guards so he could stay with Blaine overnight. He didn't sleep much, though; the chair was rather uncomfortable, anyway, and his mind was too busy whirling. At first he was just thinking about what Blaine had said to him—_"They raped me, Kurt… he put himself _in _me..."_. The words implanted awful pictures in his mind, even with the lack of detail Blaine had provided him. Images of shady, intimidating men punching Blaine, forcing him over and—without warning—raping him from behind…. Kurt was positively _infuriated. _

He had told himself that he would wake Blaine up if he slept past twelve in the afternoon so he could bring him to call his parents, but he couldn't do it. He knew that Blaine wouldn't be getting much sleep in the next few years, so he let him enjoy a peaceful, long rest.

Kurt _did _want Blaine's parents' numbers, though. Sure, Blaine had told a few stories about how he didn't really like his father all that much, but there was no reason why they shouldn't be there for their son when he was in a state like this.

Blaine was waking up. He sleepily lifted his fists to his eyes and rubbed, seemingly in a good mood. He opened his eyes and looked around. The smile that was on his face disappeared almost instantly and he began to whimper. He looked utterly disgusted.

"Oh, honey…." Kurt cooed as he moved forwards to comfort Blaine. Had he forgotten that he was at the hospital or something? Was he expecting to wake up in his house, the bruises and cuts that had been inflicted to his body never there? He put an arm around Blaine.

A dry sob escaped Blaine's lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently. "No, no, no, no, no, _no_…" he whispered to himself. "_NO, NO, NO!_"

Kurt stared at Blaine, slightly shocked, not sure of what to do. "Blaine, quiet _down_, sweetie!"

Blaine stopped shaking his head and looked over to Kurt. Kurt remembered how Blaine's eyes used to possess this cheerful, smitten look; now they were just full of anguish. "Kurt, my ribs hurt," he said quietly.

"I know, sweetie, I know. But _maybe _if we called your parents, then they could pay for more advanced treatment, and you'll feel better—"

"_NO!_" Blaine shouted indignantly. "No, they wouldn't come…" he added in a hushed voice.

"Now, why wouldn't they come? There's no reason for them not to."

"My mom's at work, probably. She's too busy to come here," Blaine told him.

"B—Blaine, that's _ridiculous_. "

"And my father doesn't love me," Blaine continued.

Kurt didn't think Blaine was trying to feel sorry for himself in the slightest; he spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone that it broke his heart. _Of _course _my parents don't love me, Kurt! Why _would _they?_

"C—come on, Blaine, give me your father's number, I'll at least try and see if _he'll _come," Kurt said in a quivery voice. How could they _not _come? Their son had been _raped_, they _had _to be there for him, and _Goddammit, Kurt Hummel, you are _not _going to cry _again. He reached for the phone.

"Kurt, no…" Blaine said softly as he grabbed Kurt's hand to keep him from getting to the phone. "Don't bother. He won't come."

"Please? At least tell yourself that you'll call them for _my _sake, Blaine, I can't stand to see you like this…."

"_Jesus, _Kurt, I _told _you, he's _not _going to come!" Blaine roared.

Kurt didn't run off into the hallway crying this time, though. He had begun to accept the fact that the Blaine he had been seeing recently—or at least since after the accident—was different than the old one. This Blaine was depressed, frightened Blaine, who would snap far more easily than before.

_Well, Kurt, there's only one thing left to do, _he thought to himself. _Time to call Dad and Carole._

**So I've begun to make the chapters longer, just so my story isn't**_** super**_** slow. Although now that I think about it, my story is slow, anyway… sorry 'bout that…. But I **_**promise **_**it'll pick up. After all, next chapter is when Burt and Carole show up, and they'll have Blaine fixed up and taken home in no time! … Right? I guess we'll have to find out. Not even I know the answer. **

**PLEASE review. It means a whole lot to me :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**I know my story has been sort of slow, but things should start to pick up from here. (And I guess this chapter doesn't really have a P.O.V. If anything, it's from Kurt's. Just a heads-up.)**

**Oh, and I also suppose it's important to mention that I do not own Glee. **

"Kurt, what are they doing here?" Blaine inquired in a slightly panicked tone at the sight of Kurt's parents. "I _told _you not to call them, I _told _you I was fine—"

"Honey, it's not _just _about your physical health. We want to help you, Blaine. We're going to contact an investigator, maybe a psychologist, and we'll see what they can do for you," Carole explained as she moved towards Blaine. He shrunk back against his pillows.

Kurt sat on the edge of Blaine's bed and spoke in his ear. "Blaine, relax, she's not going to hurt you."

Blaine looked unsure. "I don't want a psychologist," he whispered, his eyes locked on Carole's. "I don't want a psychologist, I'm not crazy."

"Look, kid, we know you're not crazy, but just do us a favor and at least _consider _letting us take you to therapy. Maybe that way, you'll be more open to letting us hear the details of what went on that day, which will help us catch the people who did this to you," Burt said plainly.

Blaine shook his head firmly.

"Well, if you're not going to accept our help, then where the hell are your parents?"

Kurt stood quickly and rushed over to his father. "No, Dad, he had an outburst about this yesterday… I don't know exactly why he doesn't want his parents to come, he just swears that they wouldn't come anyway…" he whispered.

"Aw, come on, now, that's a load of bullshit," Burt said to Blaine (who had recoiled slightly at Burt's sharp words). "If _you _don't want to call them, I will, and that's that."

"No, no, my mom's busy, she has work," Blaine said absentmindedly, his eyes wide and glassy and staring into space, "and my dad will be mad at me because if I weren't such a fag, then none of this would have happened."

Burt looked over to Kurt, who was still standing next to him. "What is this, some sort of trance?" he asked under his breath.

"I don't know, all of this is as new to me as it is to you," Kurt replied quietly before walking over to his boyfriend. "Blaine," Kurt started, putting a hand on Blaine's shoulder, "is this why I've never met your father? Because he'd be mad that you have a boyfriend?"

Blaine nodded inattentively, still staring at nothing.

Kurt hesitated slightly before asking his next question. "Does… does your father hate you because you're gay? Is this what you've been trying to tell me?"

Blaine broke down in tears. He nodded through his sobs and took the pillow from behind his head and used it to hide his face.

Burt exchanged a nervous glance with Carole before moving to Blaine's bedside, patting him on his forearm and saying, "Well, kid, I guess we'll be looking after you for a while."

Blaine slid the pillow down from his face just enough so that you could see his eyes. He sniffled. "I don't wanna go back to my house."

But looked at Carole again, but this time it was her that spoke. "That's okay, honey, you can stay with us for a while. But, are you sure you don't at least want to tell your parents—"

"_NO!_" Blaine roared, throwing his pillow across the room. "_I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO THEM!_"

Carole and Burt backed away from Blaine a few steps; Kurt, however, didn't budge at the outburst, although he did flinch slightly. "Now, dear, let's calm down…" he said skittishly. Blaine was taking deep, furious breaths, the vein in his temple bulging. He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and closed his eyes, presumably trying to calm himself. Kurt rubbed Blaine's arm sweetly, staring down at his face.

A profound silence took over the room for several minutes before Burt spoke up. "So, what'd the doctor say was wrong?"

"Two fractured ribs, an injured femoral head, several cuts and bruises to the abdomen and face," Blaine ranted, his eyes vacant again, "and possible internal tearing."

A small gasp came from Carole. Burt stood awkwardly, looking at his shoes, thinking of something comforting to say. Kurt's eyes widened. He squeezed Blaine's shoulder.

"When I woke up here, they had wrapped my ribcage and upper leg, and the doctor said that they had stitched my severe cuts. But I can't be released until a guardian comes to pick me up," Blaine went on emotionlessly, ignoring the reactions to his previous remark.

"Kurt, can I speak to you outside for a second?" Burt said abruptly. Kurt didn't hesitate to follow his father into the hall.

After shutting the door behind him, Burt began to speak without hesitation. "Tell me _exactly _what happened, Kurt. Who did this to him?"

"I _told _you on the phone that he was assaulted, and to come to the hospital as fast as you could, Dad. I figured that those words sort of implied that there was something seriously wrong," Kurt said, irritated.

"Yeah, but how was I supposed to know it was this bad? I figured that a couple of kids from his school just, I dunno, threw a few punches at him or something! And now he's saying that he has broken ribs and _internal tearing_? Do you mean to tell me that Blaine was raped?"

Kurt flinched at the word. He really, _really _didn't like it. Just the thought of his flawless Blaine being raped made his head spin. He swallowed. "Yes, Dad. From what Blaine has told me, he has been gang-raped."

"Well, Jesus, Kurt, now doesn't _that _change things!" Burt said, rubbing his forehead. He took a breath to calm himself. "I'm going to see if we can take Blaine home. From what I've gathered, the doctors can't really do any more about the injuries that Blaine has. You and Carole stay here, now. I think I'm going to see where the nearest medical supply store is so we can rent a wheelchair for him for the next few weeks."

And with that, Burt was off on his mission.

Kurt walked back into the hospital room and sat down in his chair, overcome with love for his father. He highly doubted that any other man would rush to the aid of his son's boyfriend so avidly, and for that, he was eternally grateful. For the first time in several days, he felt a smile break out across his face.

XXX

It wasn't long until Burt was back in the hospital room with a rental wheelchair, explaining to everyone that with a few phone calls and signed papers, that he had checked Blaine out of the hospital and they could go home.

An awkward silence consumed the elevator in the parking garage. Blaine sat in his chair, gripping the elbow rests firmly, not making eye contact with anyone. No one spoke.

The car ride home was uncomfortable, too, as every time Burt would ask Blaine a question, he wouldn't receive a reply.

"So, kid, do you think you'd want a back brace? I talked about your ribs with the lady at the medical supply store, and she said that it might help."

No answer.

"I figured that you could stay in the guest room and we could bring your meals up to you, so you don't have to move around as much."

No answer.

"The guest room is upstairs, though, so I'll help you get up there, is that okay?"

Blaine sat in silence, eyes vacant and face expressionless.

XXX

When they arrived at Kurt's house, Blaine insisted upon getting up the stairs by himself. Kurt pushed him to the foot of the staircase, and, using his right, uninjured leg to support himself, stood from his chair. With a firm grip on the banister, Blaine limped up a few steps, hissing whenever he put a slight pressure on his left leg. Burt and Carole watched from the base of the staircase, impressed; Kurt walked beside him, making sure Blaine didn't fall. He felt overjoyed at the sight of his boyfriend climbing the stairs—yes, he had no doubts that Blaine would eventually heal physically, but he wanted him to be independent mentally, too, and this reassured him.

Kurt helped Blaine to the guest room, which was right next door to his. He helped him into bed and covered him with a blanket before sitting next to him. "Mind if I stay?"

Blaine shook his head, his expression emotionless again.

Kurt reclined against the pillows and scooted slightly closer to Blaine in the bed. "You've been acing very… um… _bland _today. Is something wrong?"

Blaine shook his head again, not looking at Kurt, but rather the wall opposite him.

Kurt took Blaine's chin and turned his head so he would look at him. His beautiful hazel eyes were empty. _No, not empty, _Kurt corrected himself, _more like defeated. _"You _must _have something to say, honey. _Anything_."

He didn't answer.

"Please? For me?"

Blaine spoke so quietly that Kurt had to strain his ears to hear him. "I feel so embarrassed."

"Why? You have nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetie," Kurt said softly.

"I feel like disappearing, Kurt. Every time someone else is around me, I feel so humiliated. I feel like… they're disgusted with me."

Kurt moved to grab Blaine's hand, but Blaine drew back. Kurt spoke anyway. "_No one _is disgusted with you, Blaine. _I'm _not disgusted with you. You did nothing wrong." He considered wrapping his arms around Blaine and snuggling with him, but then he remembered how Blaine didn't even want to hold his hand. _It's not you, Kurt, it's just that he's traumatized. _Kurt stood and moved to the door. "Call for me if you need anything. I'm the next room over."

Kurt heard Blaine mutter 'I'm sorry' as he left. He bit his lip and shut the door behind him.

XXX

It was midnight when Kurt awoke to Blaine's screams.

**This certainly isn't the best chapter, but at least I made some progress—Blaine isn't in the hospital anymore! **

**I have another chapter coming very soon. And I already know how the chapter after THAT will go, too. **

**I assume the next chapter will be from Blaine's P.O.V. again, but I'll let you know if that changes.**

**(And on a side note, I'm so excited… I ordered myself a pair of Starkid sunglasses and they should be here in a few days! :D)**

**Please review **


	6. Chapter 6: Update Information

**UPDATE INFORMATION  
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**First off, sorry for making you think you had an **_**actual**_** story update to read. Heh. :3**

**I'm **_**really **_**sorry that there hasn't been an update for a while. I **_**promise **_**that this story has not been abandoned. I went back to school a few weeks ago, is all, and, rest assured, the homework is keeping me **_**very **_**busy. Don't worry, though. The chapter is close to being finished, and I think I have an idea as to what's going to happen in the next chapter. **

**I'd also like to take this time to add that I'm working on the technicalities of the previous chapter. I'm planning on altering it **_**just **_**a bit, so that the legal aspects of it make sense. (Thank you to twostepper for alerting me of some of these problems that have arisen in my story.)**


	7. Chapter 7

**I **_**finally **_**finished this chapter. It's not that it was particularly hard to write or anything, it's just that I went back to school a few weeks ago, so I didn't really have a lot of spare time to work on it. Sorry :/**

**I'm trying to work out the kinks in this story. I'm doing some research to see just what is legal in terms of custody and checking people out of hospitals, haha. I'm gonna tweak the last chapter so it makes more sense. I'm also sorry about the weird spacing... sometimes the lines have a lot of space between them, and sometimes they don't... Lord knows why...**

**We're back to Blaine's point of view, sort of. Or at least, we're inside his head for the beginning of this chapter. Sorry if my minor P.O.V. changes are confusing you…. Maybe we should just begin to think of it as a 3****rd**** person omniscient.**

_Blaine's heart was racing. He gnawed at his bottom lip anxiously—he'd probably never been so nervous in his life. But he couldn't keep that big a secret from his parents, he just couldn't constantly deal with the fact that he was living a lie; no, no, that just _wouldn't _do, no matter _who _his parents wanted him to be. He was just going to have to spit it out, it had to be done….  
>"I'm gay," he said suddenly, interrupting his father's rant about college football. A sudden awkward silence broke out across the room. "Um, and could you please pass the potatoes?" he added hurriedly, trying to avoid the subject.<br>A few more silent moments passed, no one passing him anything. His parents just stared at him, surprised by the news—no, _surprised _wasn't the right word, more like _disgusted.  
><em>"Excuse me?" his father said through gritted teeth, his grip on his fork noticeably tightening in rage. "I sure hope that this is some kind of a joke, son, because you <em>know _that we won't have any of that crap in this house—"_

"_No, Dad, this isn't…. I—I think I'm really gay," Blaine said in an almost-whisper, looking down at the peas he was pushing around on his plate._

_His father glared at Blaine with fiery eyes. "We raised you better," was all he said. "We raised you better than that."_

_Blaine was growing a bit agitated at his father's ignorance. He set his fork carefully on his plate before he began to speak. "It's not a 'lifestyle choice', you know. There have been recent scientific studies—" _

"_Do I look like I fucking _care _about the scientific studies, Blaine?" his father yelled, the vein in his temple bulging. "We have _not _raised you to be a fag, and that's that!"_

"_Don't use that word, please," Blaine spoke in as respectful a tone he could manage, doing his best to control his temper. _

"_What? _Fag_?" his father quipped. "_Fag _is not a bad word, Blaine. It's the appropriate term for someone who commits the sin of homosexuality, in my book. And I _know _that I didn't raise my son to be a sinner."_

"_Your father's right, Blaine," his mother added. "We just want what's best for you, is all. By telling you that homosexuality is not the best lifestyle for you is only going to help you in the long run, honey."_

_Blaine's face flushed, embarrassed that he ever brought it up. He had to press on, though. What was that saying? That little phrase that he told Kurt? Oh, right. Prejudice is just ignorance. "Look, all I'm saying is that I encourage you to do some research. Maybe that'll help you accept the fact that I was born this way, and there's nothing I can do about it."_

_Blaine's father threw his fork across the room in fury. "Not in my house," he hissed. "You won't be a faggot in my house, you won't." He stood from the dinner table and yanked Blaine by the forearm across the room, where he pinned Blaine's wrists to the wall, his face less than an inch away from his son's. "You wanna tell me you're a fag one more time?"_

"_Mom," Blaine squeaked, glancing over to his mother helplessly. She remained seated at the table as she looked in on the situation, her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar._

"_DO YOU!" his father screamed, face beet red. "DO YOU!"_

"_Mom, help, please," Blaine said in an almost inaudible tone, his eyes filled with unshed tears. He hated to admit it to himself, but he had always sort of had this unspoken fear for his father, and now, with his arms pinned up against the wall and no way to escape, he was positively terrified._

"_Oh, don't you _even _go crying for your mother," he said. "_I'm _going to handle you, whether you like it or not."_

"_Dad, _please—_"_

_ Blaine's father smacked him—hard—across the face. Blaine screamed in agony. "I dare you to tell me you're gay one more time. I _dare _you."_

_ "I—I'm sorry, I just really thought—"_

_ Blaine's dad punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Blaine let out a strangled noise, desperate for breath._

_ With that, his father released Blaine's wrists. The boy slid to the ground and covered his face in his arms, ashamed. He wanted to run away from his horrible house and find someone else who would take him in and accept him, no matter who he was… but his boy was trembling so hard that he didn't even know if he could stand up. A long, tearful sob escaped him._

_ "Now shut the fuck up and finish your dinner. We wasted enough time fooling around already, now come on."_

_ Blaine removed his head from his arms. His face felt hot and sticky from crying. But when he looked up at his surroundings, they were notably different: he appeared to be in a bedroom, the bed neatly made with crisp, white linen. To his left was a small dresser with a glass of water and neat rows of lotion bottles—and towering directly in front of him was none other than Kurt Hummel, the owner of the cozy, organized little room. _

_ Blaine stood from the ground to embrace Kurt. He reached out to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, but was greeted with an aggressive shove backwards. "Kurt, what's wrong, I was just—"_

_ "Don't even speak_ _to me, fucking faggot," Kurt spat. "Get away from me. You're nothing but a disgrace."_

_ "Kurt, I don't understand, I thought you were—I thought you were my boyfriend!" Blaine said. He cowered back in fear._

_ "Why would you even say that? Why would anyone ever love _you_?" Kurt moved towards Blaine and kicked him in the shin. "I'm sorry I ever met you. I hate you so much right now, do you know that? So. Fucking. Much." He repeatedly kneed Blaine until he was a sobbing mess on his bedroom floor, where he proceeded to stomp on his face. A bit of blood tricked from Blaine's mouth, which was agape and screaming. "Goodbye, faggot."_

_ Darkness._

"Blaine, please, honey, wake up, _wake up!_"

Blaine woke suddenly and hastily scrambled out of bed, trying to get as far away from Kurt as possible. "Don't touch me!" he screamed. "Please, please, just don't touch me!"

Kurt backed away from Blaine as far as he could. "Wha—what's the matter with you?" he whispered. Kurt cradled his elbows with his hands.

"Please, I can change, I promise! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just don't hurt me!" he wailed, his face contorted into a terrible expression of fright.

"Honey, please, if you'd tell me what's wrong, I could help you," Kurt cooed, moving towards Blaine cautiously. He extended a hand to the boy.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Blaine shrieked, slapping Kurt away.

"Blaine, what the hell is wrong with you!" Kurt shouted.

And suddenly Blaine was collapsing to the ground, sobbing, murmuring 'I'm sorry' over and over into his hands.

Kurt walked over to him and knelt down by his side. He didn't want to upset Blaine by touching him, so he just said softly, "It's okay, everything's alright, you're fine."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Kurt, I"—he sniffled—"won't bother you anymore, I was just having a dream is all…."

Kurt hesitated for a second before asking his question. "Were you dreaming about—you know…?"

Blaine knuckled away the tears from his cheeks. "Not really, no…. I started off dreaming about my dad…. And all of a sudden, I was in your bedroom, and you were yelling at me, and telling me how you didn't"—he choked on his tears—"how you didn't love me, and you were kicking me, and..." Blaine's voice trailed off. He sniffled again before he turned to Kurt and encompassed him in a tight, needy hug. He buried his face in Kurt's shoulder.

"I want you to know that I'll never stop loving you, Blaine," Kurt murmured into his boyfriend's ear.

Blaine pulled away from Kurt. He smiled. "You're the most amazing—I—I love you so much."

XXX

"So, um, I did some research today," Kurt said at an attempt to break the silence that had come across the dinner table, "and I found out that it's completely normal for you to have dreams about this kind of stuff, Blaine." (Blaine turned red and looked down at his plate awkwardly, but Kurt continued on.) "This one website called it re-experiencing. Apparently, many"—Kurt cleared his throat—"_survivors—_suffer intrusive thoughts or dreams that involve the event. So don't feel—"

"Kurt, I appreciate it, but I _really _don't wanna talk about this now," Blaine said, his tone so low it was almost imperceptible.

Kurt looked taken aback, but shut up anyway.

"Well, I did some research, too," Burt said. He set his fork down. "According to this one source, it's technically not legal to house you here without your parents' permission." Blaine opened his mouth to speak, but Burt cut him off. "I _know_ you had that episode in the hospital about not wanting to call your parents, but it has to be done. We need to let them know that you're staying here. It's just the rules, kid. Not my call."

Kurt looked back and forth between Blaine and Burt nervously. Kurt's father had no idea about the crap Blaine's dad had given him, surely some of which would be serious enough to get Blaine taken away by child protective services. Granted, Mr. Anderson had never caused any permanent damage, but he sure had smacked his son around quite a bit… and that's not even beginning to cover the verbal abuse Blaine had suffered through. Kurt knew that Blaine's parents were _certainly _not the most suitable guardians, but yet he was so afraid to tell somebody, do afraid of what Mr. Anderson might do if he found out that Blaine had told someone that he'd been mistreated. But to his surprise, Blaine was quite willing.

"I… I guess…." A moment of hesitation. "Yes, sir. You can call him. I'll give you his number after dinner. But, _please_, just don't make me talk to him…."

Burt nodded sagely. "No problem."

XXX

Blaine and Kurt stood outside Burt and Carole's bedroom, eavesdropping on the phone conversation through a cracked door. Kurt was biting at his bottom lip worriedly, hoping that things would turn out well for his boyfriend; Blaine, on the other hand, stood next to Kurt, emotionless, straining his ears to hear every detail of the conversation.

"Mr. Anderson, this is Burt. Kurt's father? You—you don't know who Kurt is? Does 'your son's boyfriend' ring a bell?" Burt paused for a moment to let Mr. Anderson scream and yell in protest. "Okay, okay, would you just shut _up _now? You should be glad that your son has met someone he cares about. I know that I couldn't be more happy for Kurt." Another pause. "That's not the reason I'm calling you, Mr. Anderson. You need to know that your son has been injured, and that we've been the ones who were taking care of him for these past few days. I assure you that he's been in good hands. But I think you deserve to know the truth about what has happened—" Burt was cut off by Mr. Anderson. "Well, no _wonder _Blaine didn't want to talk to you! What kind of prick doesn't care about the trouble his own son has gotten into?"

Just a few moments later, and they were both screaming at each other. "Your SON, your own SON was RAPED and you don't even give a damn! I bet I could call child protective services and they'd come in a heartbeat! You can't call yourself a father when you don't even give a fuck as to where your kid is or why he's injured!" Burt slammed the phone down on the receiver and rubbed his forehead right under the bill of his cap. He looked up and caught a glimpse of the two teenagers standing outside of his door; they tried to scurry away, but Burt called them into his bedroom.

"We're sorry, we didn't mean to… overhear or anything…." Kurt squeaked. Blaine nodded and looked down at his shoes.

Burt stayed silent for several seconds, seemingly pondering the options he had at hand. "Blaine, I think—I think you're going to stay at our house for a while until we can figure things out," he finally said.

"But… wh—why?" Blaine asked quietly.

Burt heaved a sigh. "I don't wanna disappoint you, buddy," he said plainly. "But you deserve the truth."

Blaine looked anxiously at Kurt, who shrugged.

"Your father seemed rather insistent that he doesn't want you to come home," Burt started. "But he _did _give us permission to house you until you felt better, physically _and _mentally. He said that your mother was going to come home from her business trip in three days, and then maybe she'll consider taking you back in," he added.

Blaine frowned. "Was he… was he mad?" He bit at the inside of his bottom lip. "I mean… was he mad at me about… about Kurt? Or getting into trouble?"

"It doesn't matter whether or not he was mad, because he had no reason to be. You never did anything wrong, and I want you to know that. Everything that has happened in the past few days was out of your control. We're just glad you're still alive."

Blaine looked mildly unsatisfied with the answer, but put on a tiny, false smile and nodded.

Burt stared at the boys for a moment longer before turning to his bed and seizing a pile of clothing. He tossed the clothes to Blaine. "Uh, here. I grabbed some shirts and stuff from Finn's room, so they're probably gonna be a little big on you…. I figured you might need them, considering you probably didn't, you know, pack bags or anything," Burt said with a small chuckle. He glanced at Kurt, who didn't find what he said as amusing as Burt did. With that, he clapped his hands together and said, "Right. Well, I guess you two can leave."

"Come on, let's go," Kurt said, tugging at Blaine's wrist. The couple departed to Kurt's room.  
>XXX<br>The two boys sat cross-legged on Kurt's bed, opposing each other. No one was really speaking, but occasionally, they'd look up from their laps and stare at each other for a short period of time before quickly looking away. Blaine had taken a shower and changed into an old shirt and a pair of heather gray sweatpants, and was tugging at the drawstrings. Kurt watched absentmindedly as Blaine twirled it around his finger.

"Um, Blaine?" Kurt said, the stillness in the room becoming unbearable. "How come, when my dad called your dad, he didn't know about me? Have you never… you know… told him about me?"

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine began quickly, as if he knew the question was going to arise. "It's—it's not that I'm _embarrassed _of you or anything, I—I was trying to protect you, is all…."

"Wh—what?"

Blaine took a deep breath and looked down at his lap before continuing. "I figured that if I told my dad about you, he'd get angry. Like _bad _angry. I remember how he was when I told him I was gay… and if he knew I was _acting _on it? I can't risk you like that, Kurt. I don't want him to hurt you or anything. My dad… he doesn't really give a damn as to whether or not I'm _happy_. All he wants is to make sure I become the person _he _wants me to be. And so far, I'm not really living up to his expectations."

"But... but, Blaine… what do you mean, 'how he was when you told him'? What—what did he do to you?"

"He got really pissed, is all. He lectured me, and…."

"Blaine?" Kurt said in that is-there-something-you-aren't-telling-me tone of voice. One of his eyebrows was raised and his eyes were questioning.

Blaine hesitated. "He sort of punched me."

Kurt stared, his mouth slightly ajar. "Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my—"

"Not hard!" Blaine added hastily. He tried to reassure Kurt. "It only left a bruise, it went away after a few weeks, nothing broke, I don't think… he just punched me in the stomach, so…."

"Blaine! _Just _punched you in the stomach? Your father, your own father _just _punched you? Is that all?" Kurt replied sarcastically. "I mean, I knew your relationship with your father wasn't the _best_, but he _punched _you, for Christ's sake? You can't let your mom take you back to him! You _can't_! I won't let you! He's already pissed about this whole mess we've gotten into—Lord knows what he's going to do when he sees you!"

"Come on, I'm sure he's not really as mad as he seemed on the phone. You have nothing to be worried about, I promise."

Kurt didn't say any more, but rather held his head in his hands and shook his head over and over.

Blaine reached out and covered one of Kurt's hands with his own. "I _promise_," he said firmly, his eyes locked on Kurt.

Kurt removed his head from his hands and looked up at Blaine. Blaine, his beautiful, loving, amazing boyfriend whom Kurt couldn't picture his life without. He stared right into Blaine's stunning hazel eyes, and in that moment when everything was so perfect, Kurt just couldn't help but to kiss him. He draped his arms loosely around Blaine's neck as he parted his lips _just _enough so that he could slide the tip of his tongue into Blaine's mouth. Blaine moaned into the kiss and raked his fingers through Kurt's hair. Kurt gently pushed Blaine backwards onto the bed so that he was leaning over him, never letting their lips part.

Blaine's hands found their way to the small of Kurt's back. He lay motionless on the bed whilst Kurt pressed kisses to his jaw line. Blaine shuddered and his eyelids fluttered closed.

Kurt pressed his body up against Blaine's and pressed his lips to Blaine's even harder. His tongue was entwined in Blaine's, and then Blaine _sucked _at it, and a surge of pleasure jolted through Kurt's body. He tried to restrain himself, hold himself back just the _slightest _bit, but when Blaine's torso pressed needily into his, Kurt couldn't help but to grind his hips into his boyfriend's.

Kurt used one hand to support himself and the other to pull at the collar of Blaine's tee, whining desperately for the damned piece of clothing to just come _off_. His whimpers for Blaine were silenced when their pelvises met and Blaine's erection was pressed firmly against his thigh. The hand that was tugging at Blaine's collar slowly made its way down to his sweatpants, where Kurt began tugging impatiently at those instead. Blaine ignored Kurt's struggles, for he was immersed in their kissing; his hands were tangled in Kurt's soft hair, and his tongue continued to explore Kurt's mouth with pure _want_.

But it was when Kurt finally got Blaine's pants down that problems started to arise.

Kurt's fingertips brushed the front of Blaine's boxers as their kiss intensified; Kurt was trying _so hard _to hold back, he really was, but he just wanted to satisfy Blaine was all, and—

Blaine tore his lips from Kurt's. "Kurt—" he began, but before he knew it, Kurt's lips were once more attached to his. But now Kurt's fingertips were more than brushing against Blaine's erection—his hand was palming at it repeatedly, which sent waves of pleasure rippling through his body. He tried to remain quiet (_After all, _he reminded himself, _you _are _in your boyfriend's house, and if his parents hear your _moans _coming from the bedroom, by God, are you in some deep shit._), but he was so overwhelmed with ecstasy that he couldn't suppress a deep, throaty moan. Kurt took it as the signal to go faster, his hand thoroughly massaging Blaine's crotch; Blaine had never felt _so good _in his life, he was so overcome with—

"_You fucking bastard_."

_No, no, why am I thinking about _that _right now? I shouldn't be thinking about that. Stop thinking about that. _

"_We're gonna give you what you deserve, you little cunt."_

_Fuck, no, I don't wanna think about that—_

"_You're gonna regret the day you were born, you little faggot."_

Blaine recalled the man, tall and intimidating, shoving his cock inside of him, and his hips writhed at the thought.

Kurt, though, took it as a sign to keep going, so he palmed at Blaine faster, harder, forgetting about his own painful erection (which made him want to rip his pants off, whether they were designer or not—the pants were restraining his boner, and God, did that fucking _hurt_), only wanting to please Blaine, precious Blaine—

"Ku—st—I—" Blaine muttered through the kiss. Images of the other aggressors popped into his head, of the smaller, tattooed man with the switchblade. He wasn't even paying attention to Kurt any more—he was trapped inside his own head, which was drowning in painful memories. He remembered the tip of the blade digging into his wrist, slicing the skin as if it were cutting through butter. A cry escaped his lips as he recalled how very _torturous _that was—perhaps, he admitted to himself, as bad as the rape itself. The sheer _agony _of the man slicing his veins, watching the blood pour out of his wound, was all too much to think about. A cry escaped him.

Kurt was rubbing Blaine, but less furious and more tender. Their faces were no more than half an inch apart when Kurt murmured, "I love you so much. All I ever want to do is please you. _Come for me, Blaine._" He spoke that last part in a hushed tone, his voice filled with such passion that it sounded poetic.

"_Don't you _dare _make another sound, you little faggot."_

Blaine was sobbing now, trying to push Kurt off of him (but struggling quite a bit, considering his arms were too quivery to do much use). "P—please, stop, I can't—" Blaine cried. He tugged his pants back up to his waist.

Kurt drew back, collapsing next to Blaine on the bed. "What happened? Did –did you not _want _me to do that, Blaine?" Kurt said, stressing the 'L' of his name. He was sure that it came out a little bitchy, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to _do_—there he was, rubbing his boyfriend's fucking _cock_, the first time he'd ever gone that far—and all of a sudden, Blaine was crying, and Kurt felt so positively embarrassed that he just wanted to go back in time about ten minutes and un-kiss Blaine so that none of this mess would've ever happened.

Blaine drew his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees, avoiding eye contact with Kurt.

"_Blaine?"_

Blaine stood suddenly, pacing furiously about the floor. His hands flew to his head, and he seized fistfuls of his hair. His face was red and sticky from tears. "I'm thinking about it all the fucking _time, _Kurt, you have no idea, it drives me insane! For God's sakes, I already had to experience it once, isn't that enough? It's ruining my fucking life!" Blaine leaned against the wall and slid down it, his hands still in his hair. Before Kurt knew it, he was crying again. "I feel so fucking _unwanted_, Kurt. I feel _used _and _ugly _and _broken._ And I just know that you want to break up with me because I'm nothing but a pain in the ass but you don't, you _don't _because you feel sorry for me like I'm a broken toy that you don't want to throw out! And it makes me feel like _shit_, because now I know that my life isn't the only ruined one, but yours is, too, and it's all my fault!"

Kurt sat pressed against his headboard, tears rolling down his pale cheeks. He was a bit shocked, to be frank. "Blaine, no, please don't say that, I love you—"

"Of course!" Blaine laughed sarcastically. Kurt thought he was beginning to look quite insane, what with his unruly curls sticking out every which way and his deranged expression. "Of course that's what you'd say! I don't think you're _getting _it, Kurt! You don't really love me, you just feel bad! You would've dumped me that very first day you saw me in the hospital, but you didn't. And you know why? Because you pitied me. But, honestly, maybe it would've been better if you _did _dump me, because every day, I have to look at you and think, _God, I'm such a dick. I don't deserve to be alive. I'm ruining this perfect thing's life. _

"I've always felt this way, you know. I always felt like I'd never be good enough for you. That I was constantly dragging you down, ruining your reputation. I was working so hard to be perfect for you, even though deep down I knew it was damn right impossible, but I kept working anyway. For _you_. But ever since I got myself into this shit, I knew that there was no point. So go ahead! I know you want to! Just break up with me, send me back to my parents' house! You don't deserve this crap! Just DO IT, for GOD'S SAKES—"

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT _UP_!" Kurt screamed, so loud that it made his throat burn. "YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID, BLAINE! You think that I don't love you! You think that I feel sorry for you, that's the only reason I'm still with you! You think that you're ruining my life! You fucking _bastard!_" Kurt yelled. The shouting was beginning to make him feel dizzy, but he pressed on. "I'm still with you because you _saved _me, Blaine! You're just to ignorant to realize it! Do you realize how much it hurts me to hear you say that crap? Just shut _up!"_

"Then why the hell _are _you still with me? I'm not the same person I was last month, you know! And by GOD, if I'm too ignorant to process anything that comes out of your mouth, then I'll be more than happy to spare you the pain!"

Blaine stood from his spot and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Kurt swallowed and stared at the closed door, hurting more than he'd ever hurt in his entire life.

**I'm actually sort of pleased with this chapter—or at least with most of it. The other chapters are mega-suckish, and this one is only **_**sorta-**_**suckish. (I smell **_**progressssss!**_**) I wanna say it's the longest chapter thus far (perhaps I should've split it into two chapters)…. It sort of makes me want to redo the first few chapters, though, because I look back on them and don't think they're as good…. Eh, whatever. Tell me your thoughts, please. If there are two things I love in this world, it's Klainebows and reviews. :D (I should also apologize for the one paragraph where it's talking about how Kurt knew that Blaine's parents weren't suitable guardians, since that was sort of inside **_**Kurt's **_**head, whereas this chapter was supposed to be more from Blaine's P.O.V.)**

**I hope it wasn't too stupid and unrealistic that Kurt asked Blaine why his dad didn't know about him. I just figured that even in a moment of trouble, Kurt still cares about whether or not he and Blaine have a stable and happy relationship… it's just what teenage boys do (not that I would know…).**

**Sorry about all the italics. I hope you don't mind. **

**And, yeah, I realize that a lot of my sentences have little variation in sentence structure, but I'm working on it. **

**Okay, so I just came to an 'oh crap' sort of moment. I've been neglecting Finn! This whole time, he hasn't even been mentioned ONCE (well, except for the little bit about clothes, haha). I'm not going to pretend he's not there, but… let's just say that whenever he isn't at school, he's locked up in his room, playing Black Ops or something. Because, honestly, I could really care less about Finn in this story. I'm not going to write him in just for him to be a totally pointless character. **

**P.S. Sorry for this ridiculously long author's note. **


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